


Vigilantes

by fandom_over_family



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8408032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_over_family/pseuds/fandom_over_family
Summary: Clary and Jace both are the children of father's who own their respective parts of New Jersey and New York. Jace and his crew think they're the good guys, the ones trying to bring Valentine down. They think that Clary's family is bad and rude an dangerous. Clary and her crew think that the Wayland family will be the downfall of their urban empires. But what will happen when Jace gets captured by Clary and all of their ideas of each other turn upside down?





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The halls of the abandoned apartment complex glittered with dust, ill yellow light casting angular shadows across the floor. Jace trailed his finger along the splintering wooden walls as he walked down the hall towards the penthouse suite at the end on the hall. He could see the metal room number plaque hanging topsy-turvy off of the door, dangling from a single risky nail.  
He dragged his hand to the doorknob, but didn’t turn it. Instead, he pressed the ‘call’ button on his cellphone. Alec picked up.  
“What is it, Jace?” Alec asked. Jace chuckled softly to himself and adjusted his earpiece. He cocked and loaded his pistol and held it so it faced the ground.  
“We sure Valentine’s here, Alec? We can’t afford to fall into another trap,” Jace muttered. He could hear the distinct sound of Alec typing on the other end of the line.  
“Yes, Jace. Every single GPS we have on him says he’s there, okay? Just… get on with it,” Alec instructed. Before Jace could even say goodbye, Alec ended the call.  
“Here goes nothing,” Jace whispered to himself before trying the door. As he expected, it was locked. He aimed his gun to the lock and shot three times, taking the lock clean off as he had done many times before. He raised a boot-covered foot and kicked the door. It swung open and slammed against the wall, leaving a dent. Jace continued on into the apartment, his gun held up in front of him.   
He could hear a noise coming from the bedroom, like someone was rummaging through a full drawer.  
“Come out, come out, wherever you are, you little bastard,” Jace sneered, kicking the bedroom door open violent. He looked up to the person who was standing in the middle of the bedroom, and it wasn’t Valentine.  
It was a girl, her orange hair pulled back into a ponytail, a pair of light wash jeans on. She wasn’t wearing a shirt, only a black bra. She was holding a gun, a 22-caliber, and it was pointed right at his head.  
“Drop it,” she ordered. Jace faltered. “Bastard,” she continued, smirking. Jace kept his gun tight in his hands. The girl aimed her gun to the ground by his feet and shot. The ground exploded, and he felt a sharp pain in his foot. There was a hole in his boot. He looked from his boot to the girl.  
“You… You fucking shot my foot!” he cried, keeping his gun trained on her. She shrugged and brought her gun back to his forehead.  
“You broke into y house,” she replied. “I’d say we’re even. Now, drop. Your. Gun.”  
Jace nodded and slowly set his gun to the ground and used his good foot to kick it towards her. She snickered and shook her gun up and down.  
“All of the guns,” she demanded. Jace sighed and pulled his other pistol out from the waistband of his jeans, and the 22-caliber he had shoved into the pocket of his fading green bomber jacket. He threw them all to the ground, disappointed that he had gotten sucked into another trap. He’d have to tell Alec that HQ needed to improve their tracking systems.  
“Good,” the girl said, walking towards him. She held the gun down to her side. Jace was almost hypnotized by her, and not just because of the lack of clothes. She looked like someone he knew, but he couldn’t put his finger on just who it was. And then, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his head. She had hit his temple with the butt of her gun while he was staring. The room spun and black creeped at the edges of his vision. Finally, all was dark.

————————————————————————————

Jace woke up tied to a chair, the girl nowhere in sight. The knots were substantial, and there was no way he’d be able to get them off of his hands and feet without a knife, which he didn’t have. She’d completely disarmed him while he’d been unconscious. He felt violated.   
He stretched his fingers for the ‘call’ button that he had on his wrist, but it wasn’t there. He spotted it on the table, only about five or six feet away from where he sat. If he could just get to it-  
“Good. You’re up. I was afraid I hit you too hard,” the girl sighed, entering the kitchen. She was wearing a shirt now, a black top with long sleeves and a v-neck. Her hair was still pulled back, and she was holding a knife in her hand.   
“Who the fuck are you?” he spat, trying to untie the knots on his hands even though he knew it was useless. She was an expert in a lot of things, and knot tying was one of them, as was sharp shooting. He didn’t want to stick around longer to find out what else she was talented at.  
“I’m your worst fucking nightmare,” she whispered, leaning her face so close to hers that he could feel her warm breath on his face. It smelled like brown sugar, and her fingertips were cold when they grabbed the collar of his gray t-shirt. She had stripped him of his jacket, and his wrists and arms were bare.  
“Touche,” Jace responded, jerking violently forwards. She took a quick step back and laughed.  
“Nice try, pretty boy,” she muttered, fisting his t-shirt in her hands and taking the knife and cutting it clean down the middle.  
“What are you doing?” he asked as she pulled his shirt apart so he was wearing it like a vest.  
“I find that torture is more painful on the bare flesh,” she elaborated. She raised her green eyes to meet his. “And trust me, I would know.”  
“You’re sick,” he yelled, taking in a deep breath. The girl retreated, perching herself on the barstool that was sitting one or two feet in front of him. She twirled the knife between her fingers.  
“That’s a lot coming from you, Jace Wayland,” she muttered. He opened his eyes wide in shock, and she laughed.  
“How do you know my name?” he asked, wearily. She shrugged.  
“Everyone this side of Jersey knows your name, Jace Wayland. You’re the enemy,” she sneered, dropping the knife to the ground.  
“I know who you are,” he told her, everything piecing together in his head. She smiled.  
“Oh, you do? That’s pretty fast for a blonde. But, sadly, your men won’t find me any time soon. Or you, for that matter. Because I busted your GPS, and I’ve got a scrambler set up,” she explained.  
“Why are you telling me all of this?” he questioned. She laughed.  
“Because, for a while, you’re going to be with me. Your men will never find me unless I want to be found,” she whispered. Jace blinked.  
“No, my men will find you and your ruthless father-“  
“Oh, shut up, would you? It’s all the same- ‘I’ll find you and your dad’. Guess what, Jace Wayland? You haven’t. You’ve only found me because I wanted to be found.”  
“Why?” he queried. She stood from the barstool and took two quick strides over to Jace, even though she was about half his height. She ripped his chin with her stiletto nails. They punctured the top layers of his skin.  
“Because I love the thrill, Wayland,” she sneered, squeezing his face hard, digging her nails into his cheeks, before letting go. The open cuts stung when they air hit them. The girl bent over to pick up her knife, and she turned sharply to Jace.   
“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. Not yet, anyways,” she whispered, trailing the tip of the knife from his chest to his stomach.  
“Someone is going to find me,” Jace told her, even though it probably was the biggest lie he’d ever told.   
“Sweetie, no one’s finding you anytime soon,” she hissed, removing the knife from his skin and bringing it to his arms.  
The dragged the knife down his arm, slicing it over the veins. Blood poured onto his arm, and it came to the surface one the cut on his chest. She put more pressure on his wrist, and he seethed in pain.  
“Has the notorious J.C.W never had a stab wound?” she questioned. Jace shook his head.  
“Oh! What a shame,” she sighed sarcastically, bringing the knife down hard on his thigh. He tilted his head back and cried out.   
“You bitch!” he spat.  
“Mazel Tov, Jace!” she exclaimed, throwing the knife behind her. “Time to play good ol’ bones, isn’t it?” she shrugged.  
“Bones?” he asked, getting more and more nervous. She laughed.  
“Good ol’ sawbones,” she elaborated. He still must have looked confused. She held up a medical kit and smiled. “Surgeon.”  
“I don’t fucking trust you,” he sneered. She laughed.  
“Like you have a choice. I might be a bitch, but I’m not ruthless. If you let me beat on you, I’ll fix you up like brand new,” she said, winking. She knelt in front of him, her body almost fully in between his legs. She took a towel and soaked it in rubbing alcohol before rubbing the towel on the cut he had on his chest. She leaned in, her body touching his inner thighs. He watched her carefully, nervously. The rubbing alcohol stung his cuts, especially the ones on his arm. She stitched the cut on his wrist and wrapped a bandage around it, and she wrapped a bandage around the deep cuts on that same arm. She sprinkled some of that sketchy blood clotting powder on his chest before taking the knife again and cutting his pant leg off just above is cut.  
“Jesus fuck, that’s two perfectly good pieces of clothing you’ve ruined,” he sighed, exasperated. She rolled her eyes.  
“You can lead out, then,” she murmured, dropping the knife and stitching his leg wound as well. She patted his thigh as she stood.  
“Good as new, Jace Wayland,” she whispered, turning away from him.  
“What’s your name?” he asked quickly. She laughed and turned back to him.  
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she cackled before leaving Jace alone, tied to the chair in the kitchen his wounds freshly bandaged.


	2. Chapter 2

She came back later that day, wandering around the kitchen. He shook against his restraints until she laughed at him, and then she sat on the barstool that was still across from him.  
“Do you need anything?” she asked. He nodded, trying to work his restraints lose, but it wasn’t working.  
“What do you need?” she questioned.  
“I need to go to the bathroom,” he told her. “And something to eat.”  
She stood, rolled her eyes, and walked behind him.  
“Pets are so time consuming,” she muttered, bending down and untying his feet from the chair and half-lifting him. She was strong for someone who looked to be about five feet and no older than fourteen. She led him to the bathroom, which looked to be in a much nicer condition than the rest of the abandoned house. There was no window, which had scratched any chance Jace had had at escaping. His hands were still tied together behind his back.  
“Are you going to untie my hands, or what?” he asked, looking at her through the door. She laughed and shook her head, the curled ends of her ponytail clinging to her shoulders.  
“You’ll figure it out yourself,” she told him, turning her head away again. He let out a frustrated sigh and kicked the blue porcelain toilet.  
“And what if I can’t?” he asked again, shuffling his good foot on the ground. The other one was probably still bleeding, though only a small amount. She hadn’t done anything to the wound on his foot. Maybe it was bruised or had clotted, but every time he put full pressure on it, it sent a stinging sensation up his spine. She took three angry steps into the bathroom, her bare feet smacking the tiles. She only rose to about his chest, maybe even less than that, so he had to look down on her. She sneered.  
“Do you want me to unzip your pants for you?” she questioned, sarcastically. Jace shook his head.  
“No. Jesus… I can’t pee with no hands,” he sighed, exasperated. Finally, the girl shrugged. She untied his hands, but kept the rope. She took a small step back and pointed at him.  
“I’m stronger than you. Don’t try running,” she warned, taking some softer steps out of the bathroom. Jace closed the door with his good foot. He contemplated running, but she was right. She probably was stronger than him, and she had weapons, probably more than that .22-caliber she kept in her bedside table. He was willing to be that whoever she was, she kept a full artillery in each room in her house. His other option was to wait until Alec or his men came to find him, which could take hours or days, depending on how long it took them to grow a pair.  
She knocked on the door. “You done in there? I’ve got an important message for you,” she called. Jace rolled his eyes and finished, washing his hands and flushing the disgusting colored toilet before exiting the bathroom. She retied his hands behind his back and led him the the chair he’d been sitting in all day. She tied his feet to it again and stood back, marveling at her work.  
“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked her. She snickered.  
“I’m glad you remember our plans. I wanted to tell you a bit about me, if you’re alright with that,” she offered. Jace wished he had his call button on his wrist right about now.  
“Why? I can use whatever you say against you. It’s against every alliance my people have with… whatever you are to hold me here. I can have you killed,” he threatened. She laughed like a maniac, but it looked cute when she did it.  
“I can tell you because spoken words aren’t permanent. You can’t record me, you can’t write what I say down. And you won’t be able to find me.”  
“Why not? I’ve got an IT team the size of Texas on my side. Your mother’s middle name could give me your exact coordinates,” he sneered.  
“No, it wouldn’t. Because as far as your records go, I don’t exist,” she told him. Jace looked at her in shock.  
“Of course you exist! You’re right in front of me. Are you high, or something?” he asked. She shrugged.  
“Or something,” she replied. “But, I don’t exist as far as being documented. So, you can try to look me up, but you won’t find me.”  
“Then how come I’m here?” he asked, leaning towards her.  
“My father wanted you here. He wants your side. He wants the Wayland’s half of this world, and he will get it.”  
“Your father is Valentine. Of course he is.” Jace tilted his head back and stared at the peeling white paint of the ceiling.   
“You think my father is Valentine. I said you don’t know me. I don’t exist, and neither does my father. You can try to find him as much as you wish, you can try and track me, and you won’t ever find me,” she sneered.  
“And what’s your name?” he asked again. She hadn’t told him earlier, and he wasn’t inclined to think she would tell him again.  
“I’m Cadence,” she told him, lifting the corner of her mouth in amusement. “Cadence, Cady, Clarissa, Clary. All the same.”  
“So which one’s your real name? Which one do you like?” he questioned. She shook her head and shrugged.  
“Do you really want to know?” she replied, leaning towards him until he could feel her breath on his neck. He leaned back away from her, and she didn’t move towards him any more.  
“Absolutely,” he shot back. He swallowed hard, his adams apple bobbing up and down in his throat. She laughed and licked her lips.  
“Clarissa,” she told him, and leaned back. He took in a deep breath.  
“I can’t tell if you’re lying or not,” Jace sighed, wishing he could run his hands through his hair the way he usually did when he was aggravated. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her. “Why are you telling me this, anyways?”  
“Because it’s just words. You’re not recording, I know that. If you don’t have real-time evidence of what I say, the words disappear. Even if you write it down. Even if you remember each and every detail perfectly. You can’t prove that a thing I’ve said is true. But, Jace Wayland, I think you knew that already.”  
He nodded. Admitting defeat, at this point, was much easier than being defiant. Clarissa sat down on the floor right in front of him. She stuck her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her hands. He could see down the collar of her shirt and he didn’t even have to try. She sat so close to the ground that just looking at her face was looking down far enough to see everything.  
“You know, my father will be back soon. And then I think you’ll be able to roam the apartment freely. But, until then, you can stay tied up,” she told him, standing and walking towards her bedroom.  
“How long?” he called after her. She spun on her heel to face him and shrugged.  
“Tomorrow, for lunch. He’ll have guards set up on both sides of the doors. And by the windows. You aren’t getting out and no one is getting in. Good luck getting saved or escaping.”  
“And what if my men find me before your father arrives? You won’t be able to rely on daddy for protection,” he taunted. Her nostrils flared and her cheeks flushed. She pulled a knife from the belt around her jeans and stormed to Jace. She drove the knife into the side of his thigh and left it there. She looked him in the eye.  
“Shut the fuck up about my dad. I don’t rely on him for anything.” She turned around and went back into her bedroom. The knife in his leg was holding the bleeding off, for now, but Jace had a feeling she wouldn’t take it out anytime soon, and when she did, it would be painful and bruised and infected. 

———————————————————————————————————————

She didn’t come back out of the room until the next morning. Jace had fallen asleep in the chair sometime after the natural light had left the apartment. She woke him up, not purposely. She was standing in the kitchen with a glass of water in her hand in a black tank top and a pair of navy blue shorts. Her hair was sloppy from sleep, and she was standing on the balls of her feet. He turned his head to look at her, wincing at his stiff neck.  
“I’m thirsty,” he told her. Clarissa rolled her eyes and grabbed another cup from the cupboard and filled it with water. She walked over to Jace with the glass in her hand and faltered.  
“You don’t actually want me to help you with this, do you?” she asked, sounding tired of taking care of him, even though she hadn’t really done much.  
“Unless you want to untie me,” he offered, but she shook her head and regretfully held the glass to his lips, tilting it up slowly.   
He drank, trying to keep up with the speed at which she was pouring the water down his throat. He finished off the glass, and she bent down to set it on the ground next to his chair. She yawned, tilting her back backwards and extending her arms. She looked tired and… pretty, almost.  
“Do you need anything else?” she asked, clearly annoyed. He looked to the knife, still in his leg.  
“I mean, you could de-knife my leg, if you really wanted to,” he suggested. Clarissa laughed and shook her head.  
“Keep it,” she muttered before disappearing into her room. She didn’t emerge for a while, but when she did, she was wearing a pair of leggings and a gray t-shirt that looked worn. There were holes at the collar and on the back. He could see the band of her bra through a hole in the back of her shirt. Her haired been brushed, and she had braided. She sat on the counter this time instead of directly across him on the barstool.   
“If you keep this knife in my leg, the cut will get infected,” he warned her. She looked up at him and nodded.  
“I know. I’ve dealt with knife wounds before,” she muttered, picking at her nails. They were long with chipped silver nail polish on them. She was peeling it off and tossing it to the floor, swinging her legs.   
“You’re-“  
“Shut up,” she snapped. Jace tilted his head back, shocked by her outburst. “My dad will be back soon, and I’m not even supposed to let you out of the chair, okay? Don’t talk to me while he’s here or I will hurt you.”  
“Why are you so afraid of him?” Jace asked. Clarissa pushed herself off of the counter and grabbed the glass she had left beside Jace’s chair. She shook her head.  
“It’s none of your business,” she murmured. He rolled his eyes.  
“I’m afraid of him too, ya know,” Jace offered. She nodded.  
“You have good reason to be. He’s not your fucking father. If he was, you’d be more afraid.”  
“I mean, I’ve never even met the guy,” Jace shrugged. “But, I mean, I’m sorry about whatever I said that upset you enough to leave a knife in my leg overnight, if that means anything to you.”  
She looked back to him. The glass was still in her hand. She shrugged and walked back over to him and set the glass back down on the ground.  
“Fine. Jesus Christ, I’ll take the knife out. You don’t have to bitch about everything, Wayland. You know that, right?” she asked, grabbing a first aid kit out of a drawer in the kitchen. She brought it over and knelt by his knee the same way she had yesterday.   
She pulled the knife out slowly, trying to not spill his blood everywhere. She was somewhat unsuccessful. She broke the scab that had formed around the cut, and the wound began to bleed again. She took a deep breath in.   
“Shit,” she muttered to herself, tossing the knife aside and grabbing a rag from the kit. She pressed it against his leg, trying to stop the bleeding. She kept the rag on his cut with one hand while she dug through the first aid kit for something.  
“You know, I could help if you would just untie my hands,” he joked. She turned her head to him sharply.  
“Shut up. I’m trying to finish this before my dad gets home, and you want that to happen. Okay?” she snapped. Jace nodded, closing his mouth and focusing on the ceiling again. Finally she found what she was looking for. It was some packet of powder to stop the bleeding. She pulled the rag off of his leg and opened the small packet, sprinkling the powder onto his wound. It stung a bit, but slowly, the bleeding stopped. When it did, she grabbed a needle and quickly stitched the wound. She nodded she she finished, and she threw everything she had used into the kit.  
“I’ll clean it up later,” she muttered, closing the lid of the kit and standing up, walking over to shove it back in the drawer. She grabbed the cup that was sitting by his chair and filled it before holding it to his lips.  
“Drink,” she ordered tilting it up. He wasn’t even half done with the glass when the door to the apartment swung open. A tall, muscular man with close-cropped brown hair and thick eyebrows entered the apartment. As soon as Clarissa heard him, she dropped the glass. It hit Jace’s leg, the one she hadn’t stabbed yet, spilt on his leg, and hit the ground. The cheap cup shattered into a million little shards. Clarissa’s eyes were open wide, and her face was paler than before, which almost seemed impossible. She spun around on her heel to face the man. She swallowed hard and faked a smile at him.  
“Clarissa,” the man boomed. He sounded angry. “Clean this up. We need to talk.”  
Clarissa nodded and rushed to the trashcan. Beside it was a dust pan. She bent where the glass had spilled and cleaned up the shards, throwing them into the trashcan. She looked at Jace and held her finger up to her lips, shushing him silently. He nodded and watched her walk towards a room he hadn’t been in, granted he had only been in the bedroom, the kitchen, and the bathroom. She looked like she was nervous. She knocked on the thick cherry wood door.  
“Come in,” the man boomed from inside his office. Clarissa opened the door, slipped inside, and closed it behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

Clary swallowed nervously, watching her father out of the corner of her eye. His office was the only room, other than her bedroom, that had windows that weren’t boarded. Both of the windowed rooms had keys, ones that they both wore on a chair around their ankle under their pants and boots.  
“Sit down, will you?” her father asked, but she knew it wasn’t a suggestion. She nodded and took a seat in the blood-stained and bleached wooden chair across her father’s desk. He looked up from the papers he was hunched over and dropped his pen.  
“You have Jace Wayland under control?” he questioned. Clary nodded, wringing her hands nervously between her knees.  
“For now. But he has a whole group of men who know where we are, whether they know it or not. I busted his GPS, and we’re scrambled, but they have the coordinates of our apartment. They’ll be here soon, and we don’t have the men to take them right now-“  
“So take him uptown, to the country house. Clarissa, do you not think? We have at least ten companies up there. It’ll take Wayland’s men at least an extra week to find us up there, and by then we can be done with him,” her father said, like it was simple.  
“You want me to take him to the country house? By myself?” she asked in shock. The only person she’d ever taken up to the country house was Sebastian, and that had been a clear mistake.  
“Yes. You can’t call for a car, it’s to dangerous. Take the Maserati, alright, Clarissa? Put him in the back, the windows are tinted. And drive carefully, don’t get pulled over, okay? Tell Sebastian, he’ll help you when you get there,” her father said. Clarissa swallowed and nodded, turning to leave his office. She wanted him to stop her and tell her that he loved her, or that she could just stay here with the Wayland, but that was a childish wish.  
She headed to her bedroom to throw some of her clothes and belongings into a canvas duffle bag. She tossed in some comfortable clothes, not jeans and leather, but cotton shirts and leggings. She threw in a few guns plus her license in the event that someone at the state border decided to check her car. She’d have to threaten Wayland as well. She tossed her phone charger into the bag and set her phone on her comforter. She changed into a floral skirt and a loose gray skirt. Everyone in uptown New York looked like they had a brunch to attend at any minute. Clary let her hair down and shoved her phone down her bra. She slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her wallet and keys off of the nightstand by her bed. She exited her room and looked to Jace. He looked thoroughly shocked by what she was wearing, even though he had only known her for two days, a little less.  
“Where are you going?” he asked. She dropped her bag, wallet, and keys by the door and spun to face him.  
“We are going uptown for a week,” she explained.  
“You can’t… Why?” he questioned. Clary laughed.  
“I can, and I’m going to. My father needs the apartment this week,” she told him. Jace shook his head, his blonde hair shaking.  
“But-“  
“No one can find you if you’re uptown, I know. Another perk, I guess,” Clary shrugged.  
“Why do you look so nice, then?” he asked. Clary watched his face turn down as he immediately regretted the wording of his question. She laughed.  
“So that no one questions what I’m doing. Which,” she paused and looked him up and down, her eyes taking in his torn jeans and shirt. “I should probably get you new clothes.”  
“You think?” he asked, rolling his eyes. Clary walked towards her brother’s room. He was never here anyways, and he wouldn’t miss a button up and a pair of jeans.  
She brought the jeans out to Jace and threw them to him before untying his wrists and ankles. He rubbed the skin where he had been tied.  
“Change, already, will you? I don’t have all day,” Clary muttered. Jace picked up the clothes and looked at her, raising one eyebrow.  
“You want me to change out here?” he asked. Clary nodded.  
“Don’t worry, pretty boy. I won’t look, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she sighed, rolling her eyes and turning around. She faced to door and tapped her foot, the toe of her boot clacking on the tile.  
Finally, Jace cleared his throat, and she turned around.  
“Finally,” she muttered. “God, it takes you forever to change-“  
She looked to his hand where he was holding the damaged GPS. She rolled her eyes.  
“Drop it,” she ordered. Jace rolled his eyes and held up his hand, keeping his fist around the GPS.  
“I’m not a dog,” he replied. Clary laughed.  
“You’ll be worse if you don’t drop the fucking GPS,” she said. “And besides, it’s broken. And you don’t look smart enough to fix it, if I’m honest.”  
Jace sighed in defeat and dropped the busted GPS. Clary laughed in satisfaction as the tiny metal pieces hit the ground.  
“Good boy,” she crooned jokingly. Jace rolled his eyes, looking at the ground. Clary slung her duffle bag over her shoulder and grabbed Jace’s hand, her grip hard. She lead him out of the apartment, and he winced knowing that his men would have to start from the bottom.  
She led him to a parking garage with maybe four cars in it, and she unlocked the Maserati. Jace’s eye widened ad she threw the passengers side door opened and gestured for him to sit. He did so hesitantly, and she shut the door behind him. She walked around to the drivers side and slid in. Jace still looked shock.  
“You should work on looking less in shock,” she pointed out. Jace snapped his head to her and dropped his shocked expression, replacing it with an unreadable on.  
Clary pulled the car out of the garage and grabbed her phone, dialing Sebastian’s number regretfully. He picked up on the second ring.  
“Clare?” he asked.  
“Morning, Seb,” she cooed, driving with one hand. He laughed on the other end.  
“What do you want this early, Clare?” he questioned.  
“Daddy’s got me up at the country house this week,” she told him, sweetening her voice. “He wants you up there to protect me.”  
Seb snorted. “From what?”  
“From Mr. Wayland in my passenger seat,” she said with a smile. Sebastian choked on the other end of the line.  
“You have a Wayland?” he asked in shock, coughing. Clary smirked.  
“I do. And he’s brooding,” she told Sebastian, glancing over to Jace.  
“Am not,” he mouthed. Clary shushed him and went back to her conversation.  
“Sounds like them. I’ll be up by lunch, alright, Clare? Be careful,” Seb warned, clicking off before either one of them said ‘goodbye’. Clary tossed her phone into the almost non-existent back row of the car and rolled her eyes.  
“Trouble in paradise?” Jace queried. Clary glared at him briefly.  
“Something like that,” she muttered under her breath. Jace laughed and Clary looked at him, confused.  
“What’s so funny, Wayland?” she grunted, turning right sharply.  
“You think you and your boyfriend can keep me away from my men until you get whatever it is you want out of me. But, chances are, you’re underestimating them. You always do,” he spat.  
“And here I thought we were getting along, Wayland. That’s the last time I trust the enemy,” she joked. Jace rolled his eyes.  
“Please. You didn’t trust me ever. You tied me to a chair for two days, and you wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom myself. That’s hardly trust,” he sneered.  
“Purely precautionary. You don’t need to get salty, Wayland. This’ll be no fun for anyone if you’re in a bad mood.”  
“Because it’ll be so much fun for me,” he sighed, leaning his head back. Clary laughed.  
“You’re such a toddler, you know that?” she asked. The country house was coming up, and she was somewhat looking forwards to getting out of the car, but she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Sebastian. As much as her father wanted her to like him and merge the alliance between the Morgenstern’s sector and the Verlac’s sector (which sounded like a pretentious metaphor for sex, if she was honest with herself), he was a self-righteous bastard that thought she owed him something.  
“Whatever,” Jace murmured, staring out the window. Clary pulled into the paved driveway of the country house uptown. It was a nice townhouse with neighboring ones that looked exactly the same. She grabbed the keys out of her car, along with the keys to the house.  
“Out of the car, Wayland,” she ordered. Regretfully, he opened the car door. Clary got out of her side and came almost face to face with the old lady who lived next door. She was watering her flowers in a dusty rose dress. She stopped watering her flowers when she saw Clary, and she raised a brow when she saw Jace.  
“Good morning, Clarissa! Who’s your guest?” she called. Clary put on a fake smile and glanced to Jace before looking back to the lady.  
“He’s just a friend, Katherine,” she said sweetly. The tone of her voice made her want to choke. Katherine smirked.  
“A friend, eh?” Katherine suggested before going back to watering her flowers. Clary walked up to the door and unlocked it.  
“You know, you’re insanely hilarious when you act nice,” Jace joked. Clary turned around, the doorknob turned in her hand.  
“Say that one more time and you’ll have another knife in your thigh, Wayland,” she sneered. Jace looked to Katherine, who was watching them. He leaned forwards until his mouth was next to her ear.  
“Careful what you say,” he whispered. “We’re in public.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the two weeks wait... I usually write Friday night, edit Saturday, post Saturday, but I was auditioning for an orchestra on Saturday and then on Sunday I went to see Hamilton, which was super exciting, and then I had to get back to Philadelphia for class the next day. I'm sorry that there wasn't an update last week!


	4. Chapter 4

Jace looked around the house. He had tried all the windows, but they all needed a thumbprint, which clearly wasn’t his. He was sitting in the room Clarissa had shoved him in. She was in the kitchen waiting for whoever ‘Seb’ was to arrive.   
Finally, the door opened and there was a beep. Jace heard muffled voices from the kitchen, so he crept slowly to his doorframe and pressed his ear against his closed door, listening carefully.   
“You mean you actually got him yourself?” someone asked. Jace assumed it was ‘Seb’.  
“Of course I did,” Clarissa replied. “You think my dad did? You know he doesn’t do shit.”  
“Yeah, but… You didn’t really do it all by yourself, did you? He’s like… six times your size,” Seb pointed out. Clarissa scoffed, and there was no sound for a while.  
“I shot his foot and he dropped his gun,” she said simply. Jace cringed. That wasn’t what had happened. True, she had shot his foot, and it still hadn’t healed, but he had dropped his gun for another reason.   
“Really?” Seb asked, getting a little bit more excited, but not much. Jace could imagine Clarissa nodding, but he didn’t know if she was or not.  
“I think you’re forgetting I trained with you. Hell, I was ahead of you for half of our lives,” she said, clearly offended. See scoffed.  
“You don’t need to get so defensive. If you offend me, I might leave. Where would that put you with your dad?”  
There was another pregnant pause between the two of them before Clarissa sighed in defeat.  
“Fine. But I swear, Sebastian. I will take care of this.”  
“Whatever you say, Clare. I’m just here for backup,” he muttered. “Now, where are we keeping this Wayland?”  
“Spare bedroom,” she told him, and Jace heard footsteps. He took a quick step back from the door and threw himself onto the bed.  
“Seb, you can’t just-“ she started, but the door to Jace’s room was thrown wide open. A tall boy with thick black hair and very muscular arms stood in the threshold. Clarissa, or, as the boy had called her earlier, ‘Clare’, stood behind him, her hand on his arm. She looked nervous, which was a first. Jace had only seen her look even remotely uncomfortable when she had to talk to her father.  
The boy smirked something sinister, and it sent chills up Jace’s spine. He cursed at himself for getting unsettled at someone who he didn’t know, someone who he could probably easily take down if he felt like it.  
“Wayland?” the boy questioned. Jace nodded. Clarissa slid her hand from the boy’s arm and took a hesitant step back.  
“Nice to finally meet you.” The boy took a step into the room, then two more, then extended his hand. “I’m Seb, formally known as Sebastian Verlac. Welcome to the Morgenstern country house.”   
Jace sneered, and Sebastian laughed. He turned his head back to Clarissa, his hair swishing.  
“Feisty one, isn’t he?” he questioned. Clarissa shrugged, not looking at Jace or Sebastian. Jace still hadn’t shaken Sebastian’s hand, and he didn’t intend on doing it either. Sebastian glanced to his hand, which was still hanging. He dropped it to his side and smirked again.  
“And salty. What’s got your knickers in a twist, Wayland?” Sebastian asked. Jace blew a deep breath out.  
“First, she shot my fucking foot, tied me to a chair, and-“  
Sebastian cut him off and turned his head back to Clarissa.  
“Kinky,” he said, winking. Clarissa flushed and dipped her head down. Sebastian turned his attention back to Jace.  
“Continue the sob story, Wayland.”  
“She stabbed my thigh and my chest, and-“  
“Hey, I stitched those!” Clarissa cried from the hallway. Sebastian snickered, and rolled his eyes.  
“She’s too nice,” he whispered. “But continue.”  
“And then she crushed my GPS and brought me here.”  
Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t see the problem here, Wayland. I mean, you got to spend some quality time with Clare-Bear over here, and you get to be here for the week.”  
“I don’t want to be here for the week. I have things to take care of. I don’t even know why you need me,” Jace spat. Sebastian, jokingly, took a step back.   
“Calm down, Wayland. I’ll explain everything,” he promised, sitting himself down on the desk. He glanced back to Clarissa. “Unless you want to tell him what we want, Clare.”  
Clarissa nodded and hesitatingly took some steps into the room. She looked Jace up and down, shooting butterflies into his stomach. He cursed at himself again for letting his emotions be even effected in the slightest by a girl less than half the size he was and twenty times less intimidating.   
“We want half of the Philadelphia faction,” she said confidently. Jace looked at her in shock before shaking his head slowly.  
“Before you say ‘no’, we have good reasons. We want to split it, share it. Your family isn’t gaining anything by having all of New Jersey plus Philadelphia. If anything, it’s weakening you and your men.”  
Jace stood up. “So you kidnapped me, then kidnapped me again to ask if the Wetlands would share Philadelphia with the Morgensterns?”   
“Essentially,” Clarissa started. “I’m sorry about the whole kidnapping thing. It was a little extreme.”  
“You think?” Jace cried. Sebastian held out a hand.  
“Calm, Wayland. Don’t lash out on my girl,” he warned. Jace rolled his eyes, but the words placed an odd feeling in his gut.  
“I’m not. I just think it’s fucking stupid she brought me all the way out here when I could have given her an answer three days ago,” Jace pointed out.  
“Then what’s the answer?” Clarissa queried. Jace opened his eyes wide.  
“I can’t give you one,” he said finally. “I don’t make land decisions.”  
“But you’re the heir to your factions,” she said, clearly confused.  
“I am, but my father still makes the decisions,” Jace told her.  
“So we got the wrong person,” she muttered to herself in defeat. Sebastian took a deep breath and stood up, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him loudly. Footsteps sounded down the hall, so Jace relaxed back on his bed.  
He didn’t know what this weird feeling was. It was like every time Clarissa even looked at him, he felt different. It wasn’t just that, when Sebastian had called her ‘my girl’, Jace had wanted to leave the room. He didn’t even like her. She had kidnapped him, then kept him tied to a chair and ripped his perfectly good clothing. But, the way she’d been so close to him when she’d stitched the cuts. He had been able to feel her breath on his skin, and when she leaned close enough to his leg, her breasts had rested on the edge of his thigh.   
She wanted their land. Correction, she wanted to share their land. He didn’t know how that would work. The only way land could be shared, according to the social contract laws that ruled their mobs, was through a familial contract, and Jace wasn’t going to cross Sebastian for this. But Sebastian wasn’t a Morgenstern, he was a Verlac. Is Clarissa married him, the Morgensterns would have Maryland and Rhode Island. Jace laughed. The Verlacs owned practically nothing to the Morgensterns and Waylands. There were other big families, too. The Lightwoods had California, the Santiagos had Florida, and Bane had Texas. But the Morgensterns, they had New York and Massachusetts and Michigan and Ohio. The Waylands had New Jersey and New Hampshire and Indiana and Kentucky, and sometimes they laid a claim over a small chunk of Florida when the Santiagos were feeling especially generous.  
But Jace couldn’t give his Philadelphia chunk up. Even if it was just one city out of the whole state, it would start with that. Whatever familial contract ensued, the Morgensterns would want all of Pennsylvania after a while, and there was no way Jace was going to let that happen to his family. The Morgensterns would, he decided, be his families downfall. He was going to have to find a way to escape the country house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll probably get two updates in this week because I'm on Thanksgiving break, which means I'll be making up for the chapter update I missed two weeks ago!   
> Also, I'm wanting to write a new fanfic in any fandom (that I'm in, of course. Can be book/tv/movie), so if you have any ideas, message me with the plot and fandom! I might need to change the fandom, but probably not!   
> Bye!


	5. Chapter 5

His hand wrapped tightly around hers as soon as he shut the door. Clary looked up at him, her eyes wide. Sebastian smirked.  
“Seb,” she said hesitantly. “You can’t freak him out. If he’s afraid of us, he won’t even consider giving the Morgensterns even one one hundredth of the Philly faction.”  
“Do you really want the Philadelphia faction? Or does your father want it?” Sebastian asked, dipping his face close to hers. Clary moved her head back and shook her head.  
“It doesn’t matter, Seb. It’s land, and it’s power, and it’s money. Since when did you start caring about feelings?” Clary questioned, disgust and confusion tinting her voice.  
“When have I not?” he asked. Clary couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but she didn’t care. Seb was acting different, completely different.  
“Since I met you! From the day you first talked to me, all you cared about was land and power, and not to mention, money. Can’t you see I’m trying to do this for us? You and I both know that when our fathers pass down their reign, we are the heirs. And that’s a lot of land for our families to combine, Seb. Wouldn’t it be great if we could have even more?”  
“Of course it would be great. But are you sure that it’s what you want, Clare?” he queried. Clary furrowed her eyebrows.  
“Why wouldn’t it be what I wanted?” she asked. Sebastian ran a hand through his hair in frustration.   
“Because you’re weak, Clare! You crack under all kinds of pressure, and all you do is listen to what your father says!” he shouted. Clary blinked in disbelief.  
“Excuse me? Where were you when I caught Wayland by myself? Or last year, when I singlehandedly took an entire Kentucky faction by myself! And you call me weak? What have you done for your family, Sebastian?”  
“Exactly what you’re supposed to be doing. I’m marrying into land and wealth. It’s not my job, it’s yours,” he sneered.  
Clary reeled back, her hand pulling back and striking him across the face. He stumbled back, fuming. Clary looked down at her hand in disbelief, then back up to Sebastian. There was a hand mark on his cheek, and he was staring her down.  
“Bitch,” he sneered, stomping towards her. Clary flinched, but he just stormed past her and into the kitchen. Clary looked around the hall, even though she knew it was empty. Then, she rushed to her room. She dug her cellphone out of her bag and hurriedly dialed Jonathan’s number.  
Like usual, he didn’t pick up. Clary listened to the automated voice on the other end, taking deep breaths. Finally, she heard the beep.  
“Hey, Jon. It’s Clary. I, um, Sebastian’s pissed at me. If you could get someone else up here, that would be great,” she rushed out breathlessly. She pressed the ‘end’ button and leaned back against the wall.   
There was a shatter of glass from the kitchen. Clary’s eyes opened wide and she slipped out of her room and headed towards the kitchen, but there was nothing there. No glass on the floor, no Sebastian. There wasn’t a note on the front counter or anything.  
But then, she heard another shatter. She turned her head towards Jace’s room.  
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath before rushing to his room and frantically unlocking the door. He was nowhere to be found, but the window was smashed. Clary rushed out of the front door, looking around. Her car was where it should have been, as were all of the bicycles that were in the garage. Katherine, her neighbor, was standing in shock.  
“Which way did he go, Katherine?” Clary asked. In awe, the woman pointed right. Clary took off in a full sprint in the direction. Sure enough, running down the street, was Jace.  
“Jesus christ,” she called after him. He turned his head back, his eyebrows shooting up at the sight of her. He tripped, falling over a garden hose. He tumbled to the ground, which looked incredibly awkward considering his lanky and tall frame. He was still on the ground when Clary caught up to him. She hovered over him and smoothed her skirt.  
“What do you think you’re trying to pull? We haven’t even discussed our deal yet,” she crooned. Jace furrowed his eyebrows at her.  
“I thought I made it pretty clear the Morgensterns weren’t getting anything from my family earlier,” he told her. Clary snorted.  
“I figured you would know that us Morgensterns don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” she told him. Jace nodded and looked around them. Clary did the same. There were at least fifteen people in their yards, all looking at them oddly. Clary slowly bent down to Jace’s height, and without warning, kissed him. He froze first, then tried to pull back, and finally, Clary let him.   
He looked ready to yell at her, but she smirked and stood up, offering him her hand. Unwillingly, he took it, and let her pull him up. The neighbors went back to what they were doing, and Clary led him back to her country house.  
“What was that all about?” he asked her angrily once they entered the house again. Clary laughed.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said jokingly, still keeping her hold on his hand. She led him towards a thick wooden door, which he assumed led to a basement.  
“You kissing me-“  
There was a cough from the kitchen. Clary turned her head, her eyes meeting with Sebastian. He raised his brows.  
“Something you want to confess, Clare?” he asked, taking a bite of a crisp apple.  
“He tried to escape, Seb. I chased him down and he tripped, and people were watching. I figured it was better for them to think we had something from a soap than thinking we had kidnapped him.”  
“You did kidnap me,” Jace pointed out. Clary clamped her grip down on his hand, and he winced.  
“Whatever,” Seb grunted, turning his back to them and continuing eating his apple. Clary yanked Jace and opened the door. There was a set of dark stairs leading down into a dimply lit storage basement. Clary pulled him down after her, clearly trying to be a bit careful. She pushed him down on the ground once she had him far enough away from the stairs.  
“Are you fucking crazy?” she asked, angry.   
“What do you mean?” Jace asked, almost innocent, but he knew he was going to piss her off.  
“You’re trying to make him mad at me. I don’t know if you’ve ever met him before, but he’s not good at controlling his anger, and all you’re doing is making him mad at me.”  
“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal-“  
“Of course you didn’t. It’s a trend, isn’t it? Waylands don’t think. Were you thinking when you broke into my apartment? When you tried to escape? How stupid do you think I am?” she questioned, starting to yell. From the floor, Jace held out a hand, signaling for her to stop.  
“I’m sorry, alright? Don’t freak out,” Jace muttered.  
“Fuck you, Wayland. You know- Just fuck you. Because of everything you’ve done- break out, mention me kissing you, even just showing up at my apartment- is going to give him good reason to make me his punching bag for the next week, and I have to be here with him. So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down here and keep your mouth shut until we get a ‘yes’ out of you,” she finished, storming back upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... Attempt #1 to escape was a fail, and now we have a reason to hate Sebastian with all of our hearts, but I swear I'll give you more than just one :) he's a douce.


End file.
